


Newt's Fever

by Comade



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Flu, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Jealous Thomas, M/M, Newt is a Dork, No Angst, Protective Thomas, Sick Newt, Sickness, but it's not his fault because he is kinda drugged, lot of plans to escape the maze, newtmas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 06:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17278442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comade/pseuds/Comade
Summary: When Newt gets sick, it's up to Thomas to take care of him. If he had known how the blond was when he had a flu, or more precisely, when he was given a terrible medication that completely messed with his brain, he would've found a way to get out of the Maze just to escape this responsability, because now that the roles are reversed, Thomas finds out that taking care of a reckless mind isn't that easy.





	Newt's Fever

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone and thank you for clicking on my story! This one-shot was inspired by this hilarious tumblr post http://keeper-of-the-builders.tumblr.com/post/116314392545/newt-weve-tried-everything-anything-you-can

Thomas had never known how tiring taking care of someone could be. He was more used to being the one being looked after, since he was known to be reckless and impulsive. Usually, Newt would be the responsible one, reasoning with Minho and Thomas during their most dangerous ideas, acting like a mother hen with the whole Glade. Today, the blond couldn't look after everyone, he was off duty. For once, Thomas was the one who was supposed to take care of him, and it had only taken him two hours to lose him. The second in command had initially been resting in the homestead, feeling worse by the minutes and needing as much sleep as he could get, but when Thomas had gone to go check on him, he had found an empty hammock.

On his first day of being Newt, Thomas had managed to lose someone. Unbelievable.

“Where's Newt? He was supposed to rest.”

Minho turned away from his task to look at Thomas, and shrugged, telling him that he had no idea. The brunet had to keep himself from groaning. He had been looking for the blond for now already ten minutes but this one was nowhere to be seen. He couldn't believe they had managed to lost their poor, sick friend. This one had suffered from a real bad fever all night, and when they had given him some medication two hours ago he had started getting dizzy and talking nonsense. Thomas had no idea what kind of medication they had given him, but what was suppose to heal his flu only seemed to have made him feel worse.

“I saw him like five minutes ago but when I tried to tell him he was supposed to be sleeping he ran away, screaming that I would never catch him alive,” Minho resumed with a nonchalant voice. “And, I mean, I could have easily caught him, but did I want to?”

Thomas rolled his eyes at his friend but didn't even try to argue with him, turning his back to him and walking away to keep searching for Newt. He crossed the Glade and was about to head towards the homestead to see if Alby was there and potentially ask him if he had seen the second in command anywhere, when his glance abruptly fell onto a blond head near the elevator shaft. Frowning, Thomas fastened his pace and quickly reached him, before suddenly stopping dead in his tracks. He arched an eyebrow, offering a confused look at his shirtless friend sitting down on the ground and leaning down to write on a small piece of paper.

“Newt?”

The blond absent-mindedly hummed back, acknowledging his presence but not tearing his eyes away from his piece of paper. “Newt, your shirt,” Thomas added, crossing his arms against his chest in a severe manner that suited Newt more than him. He wasn't made to be the responsible one, it just didn't seem natural on him. People didn't listen to him when he wasn't giving a sort of motivational speech, he just didn't have the authority, and his friend's lack of answer to his scold only confirmed it.

Slightly shaking his head, Thomas took a step forward and snatched the paper from Newt hands, before putting his hands on his hips. It didn't feel right and he probably looked real uncomfortable at the moment, he definitely wasn't made for this. The blond finally whipped his head toward Thomas, looking scandalized with his mouth slightly agape and his eyebrows knitted. His reaction had been slower than normal, his behavior seemed a little off. The medication, or probably more like drug, definitely hadn't helped. He was about to protest when Thomas cut him off.

“Where is your shirt?” he asked again, in a slower voice, already feeling like losing his patience.

Newt stared at him for a few seconds, blinking in a dumbfounded way, before looking down at his own chest, as if he was just realizing that he was, in fact, shirtless. He looked back at the brunet and shrugged, before trying to snatch back his paper. Thomas lifted his hand, putting the paper out of his reach, and Newt could probably just have gotten up to take it back since he was like an inch taller than his friend, but he didn't seem to think of it at the moment, and chose to flip Thomas off instead. The brunet arched an eyebrow at that, looking midly offended, but still having a glint of amusement in his eyes. Apparently, Newt saw right through it, or just didn't care if he was irritating him, because Thomas once again lost his attention as he went back to his new occupation, which was apparently trying to see what would happen if he started pulling at a thread from his pants. Thomas' eyes widened as he saw the seam of Newt's pants starting to tear, and quickly kneeled down next to him to grab his hand, stopping him in his movement. He couldn't even believe what was happening, if he just left Newt alone for a minute he would probably come back to find him naked. Apparently the blond was not very pleased with the idea of clothes at that moment and it made Thomas feel flustered. He didn't want to think about Newt undressing or just not being dressed at all. That wasn't the time, nor the place; and the fact that he could feel some people staring at Newt's shirtless body from the distance upsetted him more than it should have.

“You're a bloody buzzkill,” he suddenly heard Newt mumble, before the blond yanked his wrist out of his grip.

Thomas glanced back at him, and took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Alright, I'm gonna ask you that one last time,” he made a pause, letting Newt more time than necessary to register what he was saying, “where is your shirt?”

Once again, Newt blinked at him for a few seconds, before a look of realization flashed across his face. “Oh, you mean my shirt?” Thomas pursed his lips, trying to contain the frustrated scream that was crawling its way up his throat, and nodded stiffly. “I think I threw it in the box.”

There was a beat of silence and it was now Thomas' turn to blink speechlessly at Newt. “You did what?”

“My shirt. I threw it in the box,” Newt repeated casually, almost shrugging it off. “To prove them our clothes are dirty. Which means we need to wash them. Which means laundry. Which means big rope to make them dry. And you know what a big rope would be great for? Escaping.”

“... You know what? I'm just gonna nod along and pretend this makes sense,” Thomas sighed, shaking his head, before getting up to jump into the box.

He squinted his eyes, his vision slowly adjusting to the darkness of the metallic box, and started looking around for the blond's shirt. He saw a few pieces of paper scattered around the place, and picked some of them up, immediately recognizing Newt's handwriting on them. He was asking them for a big rope, adding some “c'mon guys”, “it's for our laundry I swear”, “it needs to dry, it's dirty, look” on different sheets. Thomas had a hard time stiffling his laugh at that, and shook his head, throwing them back on the ground. He took another look at his surroundings, before tilting his head to look up at the sky. “Are you sure you threw your shirt down here? I don't see anything,” he shouted.

There was a beat of silence, as Thomas kept looking at the sky, waiting patiently to see Newt appear. He didn't. “Newt?” the brunet called again, before letting out a sigh. The blond was nowhere in sight. He rolled his eyes, and scanned his surroundings one last time before getting up, about to climb back out of the box, when he heard Newt's voice in the distance.

“What's a pretty boy like you doing in a place like this?”

“What the hell?” Thomas mouthed, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. He would have wondered for a second if it really was Newt, if only his accent hadn't immediately given his identity away. He raised his hands and grasped the edge of the box, hauling himself upwards just enough to be able to peek over the edge. He scanned the area, and it took him a few seconds before his eyes finally landed on Newt, who was standing in front of Jay, a few feet away from where he had been sitting. Thomas didn't know that Jay really well, he only knew that he worked with his friend in the garden and seemed like a great guy in general. He was quite tall and built, towering Newt from a few inches, and had raven hair. Despite his messy hair, Jay's muscular body and hair color made him the exact opposite of Newt, and for some reasons, Thomas hated it. He felt like he was supposed to be the blond's opposite. Opposites attract, after all.

“Hi Newt, what do you want?” Jay chuckled back, stucking the shovel he was holding into the ground to lean against the handle. “You're working shirtless now? I don't mind the view but I don't think your boyfriend Thomas would approve.”

Thomas felt a blush spreading across his cheeks, and shook his head, before letting himself drop back onto the metallic floor of the box, his arms starting to ache. He knew he often acted like Newt's boyfriend, always making sure he was alright and sometimes even keeping an arm on his lower back when they were next to each other, but he didn't know people had noticed. Sure, Minho liked to tease him about it but it was just because his friend was aware of his crush on the blond.

Thomas stretched his shoulders a little, painfully aware of how long he had hanged himself onto the edge, and barely listened to the rest of the conversation, until he heard Newt asking Jay to give him a boost to see if he could “climb his ass out here”. He jerked his head up, his eyes wides.

“Yeah, sure.”

His eyes would have widened even more if it was humanly possible, and he quickly climbed out of the box, wincing when he felt the muscles in his arms straining. Newt and Jay were already near the wall when Thomas finally pulled himself out of it, the raven-haired boy getting ready to give his friend a boost. Thomas scrambled to his feet, dashing across the glade. He wasn't fast enough, and was barely halfway there when Jay kneeled down to launch Newt upwards. “No, wait!” he shouted in vain.

The blond grasped onto the vines, and, for a second, Thomas almost believed he would be fine. That was until Newt tried to start climbing. Thomas had almost reached the wall when the blond tried to grab another vine and slipped, promptly falling backwards. Thomas' heart skipped a beat, and he quickened his pace before launching himself forward, grabbing Newt into his arms at the last second. His back roughly hit the ground as they were both sent tumbling onto the grass, and he tightened his hold on Newt, trying to shield him with his body. They finally came to a stop when, once again, Thomas' back harshly hit the wall, knocking the air out of his lungs. He let out a groan, and opened his eyes, his glance immediately falling onto Newt. The blond was pressed against his chest and looking up at him, with a mix of bewilderment and amusement sprinkling in his eyes.

“That must have hurt, but you gotta admit it was bloody funny,” he grinned.

Thomas let out another groan, and chose to ignore him, getting up before helping Newt to his feet. The blond was still chuckling as he pulled himself back up, and Thomas had a hard time containing his smile despite how exasperated he was by his friend's careless behavior. He was supposed to be the responsible one, after all.

Realizing how late he was starting to be for their daily meeting at the homestead, Thomas quickly took his shirt off and gave it to Newt. He ignored the blond's appreciative whistle at the sight of his bare chest, and gently pushed him ahead of him, leading him to a hammock without even letting him time to put the shirt on. For once, Newt didn't try to protest, and let Thomas take him to the hammock, before sitting into it, obediently pulling the shirt over his head. The brunet took a quick look at him, still in a hurry, but found himself incapable of tearing his eyes away from his friend. His shirt almost fitted him but was still a little large on him, the shoulders too wide for his thin body, and, in the process of sliding into it, Newt had ruffled his hair. His blond strands sticking out everywhere, his large shirt on the verge of slipping off his shoulders, and his grumpy look from being sick made Thomas melt, and, for a second, the brunet was tempted to take a day off to just to stay by his side all day. He didn't get to see Newt this vulnerable every day, after all. The blond was usually always in control, staying calm in complicated situations and being the one who kept everyone safe. He was always strong, not letting down his barriers, but now Thomas felt like he was discovering another side of Newt, and he didn't want to leave him, or at least not yet.

“You're gonna lay down with me or just stand there all day?”

The grumpy look was now officially gone from Newt's face, replaced by a deadpan stare. Thomas spluttered for a second, saying that he needed to go, and, at the sight of Newt's single arched eyebrow, the brunet felt a blush creeping up his cheeks. “Just sleep,” he concluded awkardly, before quickly turning away from him to head toward the homestead. He walked at a quick pace, still embarrassed by his clumsy reaction. He had been taken aback and had said the first thing that came to his mind, which was litteraly nothing. Thomas was halfway there when he suddenly remembered he had no shirt, a few meters away from the homestead. He went back on his steps to go find his bag, and then quickly slipped into another black henley shirt. The brunet hurried to go back to the homestead, already knowing he would be the last to get there.

He was right, and when he entered the room, Alby gave him an exasperated look, but was indulgent enough to let it slide. Thomas shot him an apologetic smile, and quickly took a look at his surroundings to find Minho, when his eyes fell onto Newt, standing next to Gally, and definitely not resting. For the surprisingly first time of the day, Thomas started losing his nerves, and truly felt like Newt was slowly leading him down the path of insanity. He clenched his fists, and took a deep breath, doing his best to keep himself from going over to Newt to pick him up, sling him over his shoulder and throw him right back into the hammock. Thomas was so lost in his own anger he didn't even notice Minho appearing next to him until the bulky boy asked him what was going on.

“I've been trying to get Newt to rest all morning, but he is out of control,” Thomas growled through gritted teeth. "That damn medication messed with his brain."

Minho followed his friend's glare, his eyes falling onto the blond having a nice conversation with Gally, of all people. That probably added to Thomas' anger. “Leave it to Alby,” he shrugged. “He's the only one who can really get Newt to do something he doesn't wanna do.”

Thomas crossed his arms against his chest, not very pleased with the idea of Alby being the only one having a real influence over Newt. He knew that they had been friends for years, and that now they probably considered each other as brothers, and yet, he still couldn't help himself but feel jealous over how close Alby was to Newt.

“You really need to stop acting like his boyfriend, dude,” Minho scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“I'm not acting like his boyfriend,” Thomas snapped. “He should just tell him to go rest already, Newt shouldn't take part of a meeting when he's sick.”

“He's just giving him what he wants, I guess. He knows Newt won't go rest as long as he feels like he's needed, so he'll tell him to go to sleep when it's over.”

Letting out a resignated sigh, Thomas lowered his head, admitting that his friend was right. Thomas was way too used to being wrong when it came to Newt, and he hated it. It was like everyone here knew the blond better than him, which was probably right, but that wasn't the point. Thomas' attention was brought back to the meeting when Alby cleared his throat, bringing everyone's eyes on him. He started by mentionning a few issues going on in the Glade, and briefly brought up the changes that needed to be done in their organisation, taking in a few suggestions from Gally. Thomas kept shooting furtive glances towards Newt every once in a while, and was bewildered at how serious and attentive the blond looked. It was like he wasn't sick anymore, like his responsabilities had called him back and the cloud that shrudded his mind was suddenly gone. Maybe Alby was right, maybe they just needed to give him what he wanted.

They were near the end of the meeting, approaching the important part: The Maze. They had gone over this subject a million times already, but it was never enough. They still weren't finding any escape, so the issue was still to be resolved. “The others are starting to get discouraged,” Alby sighed. “They thought Thomas' arrival was the beginning of a new era, so now the lack of result is really getting on their nerves.”

There was a beat of silence, during which everyone seemed to be avoiding Alby's stare, looking away speechlessly. They all knew they needed to do something, but they didn't know what. They wanted nothing more than to get out of the Maze, but after three years of failures, they seemed to be running out of options.

After a few seconds, Thomas opened his mouth, not even knowing yet what he would make up to motivate everyone, when Newt suddenly slammed his hands on the table. “Okay, hear me out,” he said, his eyes sparkling with determination. The people present in the room all exchanged the same amused but apprehensive glance, knowing whatever he was going to say was gonna be pretty terrible. Minho leaned towards Thomas, and, keeping his eyes glued on the blond, hushered that Newt was going to say something incredibly stupid. The brunet fought a smile, shaking his head, and retorted in an amused tone that he believed in him.

“Spoons.”

Thomas dropped his head and brought his hand up to his face, pressing his thumb and finger across his eyes in exasperation, while, beside him, Minho was having a hard time trying to stiffle his laugh. The bulky boy pressed a hand against his mouth, trying to at least hide it, but his shaking shoulders left no room for doubt. Meanwhile, the whole room just kept staring at Newt in disbelief, until the blond finally resumed, explaining his idea further.

“We dig our way out through the maze, with spoons.”

There was another beat of silence, until a small chuckle escaped Thomas' lips, as he shook his head affectionately. He answered him that he didn't think it would work, only for the blond to retort back that he didn't see why it wouldn't. Alby stopped the argument before it even began, gently suggesting to everyone to just stick to the usual. Newt narrowed his eyes at him, but kept his mouth shut, and, for a moment, Alby really thought he'd be able to go on with the meeting, until the blond's voice erupted again.

“You need to open up your mind,” Newt insisted. “See, you're thinking like a square, and I want you to think like a triangle.”

“We can't dig our way out of the maze with spoons, Newt,” Alby deadpanned, already losing his patience, which was something that occurred rarely when it came to his best friend.

“Think like a triangle,” the blond repeated, slightly leaning forward and putting his weight onto the table.

“I'm serious, we--”

“Triangle, I said.”

Alby dropped his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers as he let out an exhausted sigh. His eyes were forced shut and his lips pursed, he had never looked so annoyed before, and yet, his best friend was still leaning towards him with excitement gleaming in his eyes, completely unaware of his friend's patience running low. After a few seconds, Alby finally looked back up, and kept his eyes closed as he took a deep breath. He opened them again, his glance falling directly onto Newt's beaming smile, and was about to say something, when the blond cut him, repeating once again the exact same word. Alby's eye twitched. They all stared at him apprehensively, and Newt, still as clueless as ever, kept smiling at him. Minho was the first to react, and quickly reached Newt in a few strides, putting his arm around his shoulder as he turned him away from Alby. “Come on Newt, time for you to rest buddy,” he said with a hint of affection in his tone.

The blond seemed to be about to protest, trying to shrug the arm off, so Minho tightened his hold around his friend's shoulder, litteraly dragging him away at this point. Newt squirmed in Minho's arms until he managed to turn around to face the others as his friend kept pushing him towards the door. “Alright, what about an hexagon? Is that better? Think like an hexagon, be an hexagon!”

As soon as the door closed behind the two, a silence settled back in the homestead, only disrupted by Newt's shouts which were followed by Minho's booming laugh. Everyone in the room turned to look back at Alby, who was still staring at the door and slightly shaking his head, but who had a hard time fighting the affectionate smile spreading across his features. He could never stay mad at Newt for long. That was the great thing about a friendship between two people with a calm temper, their friendship never faltered, an argument was never strong enough to push them apart. They had been friends for a long time and knew they could always count on each other no matter what, despite the arguments and the bad days, which happened quite a lot down in the Glade. Thomas envied this kind of strong connection. He was close to Minho and Newt, but it wasn't the same thing. He was hot-headed, impulsive, and it had often almost costed him a friendship.

The brunet was so lost in his thoughts he completely forgot about what was happening around him, but was suddeny brought out of his thoughts when someone shouted his name. He snapped his head up, blinking as he searched around the room who had called him, before his glance fell onto Alby. The poor leader seemed exasperated, and let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“It's no use to keep on going,” he concluded, sounding exhausted. “Everyone go back to your occupations except Gally, we still have a few things to discuss.”

Thomas headed towards the door, sending Alby an apologetic look as he walked past him, but still grateful he'd be able to go back to his friends sooner than expected. As soon as he put a foot out of the homestead, Thomas started looking around him, wondering how he'd find them, when he heard Minho's booming laugh near the garden. His eyes settled on the raven-haired boy, crouching next to Newt who was sitting cross-legged onto the grass. The blond had a notepad resting on his legs, scribbling quickly on the paper and often looking up, his eyes slightly narrowed as he seemed to scan the area with a critical glance. Furrowing his eyebrows, Thomas reached them in a few strides, wondering what the younger boy was up to this time. Minho lifted his head to see whose shadow was looming over them, and got up when his glance fell onto his friend.

“What's he doing?” Thomas asked, jerking his chin towards Newt with a confused look.

“He thinks that, whoever he killed to get his ass in this mess, they can come to an agreement,” Minho shrugged, still glancing down from times to times to look back at Newt's notepad.

“Which would be?” Thomas asked, curious, as he kneeled down next to the blond, craning his neck to peer over his shoulder. It was a list, with the names of a couple of gladers on it. There was also a few doodles on the corners of the sheet, and Thomas had to fight off a smile when his eyes landed on a really poorly drawn Minho with long and flamboyant hair.

“He says he'll make it worth their while and is even ready to leave half of us behind.”

Thomas pressed his lips in a thin line, glancing back at Newt with a worried look. “... That's good to know,” he ended up saying, not knowing if he should feel concerned or amused. He quickly skimmed through the list, starting from the bottom and noticing a few names he didn't know, before coming to a stop, his eyes stuck on the first name of the list. “Minho?” he wondered aloud, giving Newt an incredulous look before turning his head to glance at the raven-haired boy when the blond refused to even acknowledge him. “Why are you first?”

To say he was offended would an understatement, especially given the fact that, after skimming through the list, Thomas had noticed that his name appeared nowhere on it. Now, that shouldn't have been an issue since Newt was terribly sick and barely capable of having coherent thoughts right now, but putting Minho on that list was an affront, and putting him first to top it all off was just a declaration of war. The raven-haired opened his mouth, about to answer, when Newt cut him off.

“Shitty personnality but great hair,” the blond threw in as he kept his eyes on the sheet, still writing quickly and adding new names to the list, sometimes crossing some of them mercilessly.

“That's the sweetest thing he ever said to me,” he heard Minho sigh from beside him.

Thomas glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, when he saw that his friend wasn't beside him anymore. He turned around, quickly spotting the raven-haired boy as he walked away, probably going to drink a little before they left to accomplish their chore as runners. Thomas knew they were supposed to leave soon. He even knew that, by now, they shouldn't have been in the Glade, but, as clingy as it may sound, he didn't like leaving Newt alone when he was this sick. It didn't happen often, it was probably the first and last time Thomas would see his friend like this, and he wanted to stay here to take care of him.

“Jay, you're on fucking thin ice,” a voice suddenly scowled from behind him.

Already recognizing the blond's voice, Thomas rolled his eyes as he turned back towards him, wondering when that Jay would leave them alone. This one was apparently just passing by, carrying a hoe, but had stopped in his track right in front of Newt when hearing the sudden and uncalled-for scowl, turning his head to look at him with an eyebrow arched. He was visibly amused, and had a grin spread across his face, looking at the blond sitting cross-legged on the floor adoringly. He let out a chuckle, slightly shaking his head.

“You're adorable when you're sick.”

This comment made Newt's eyes narrow, as he lifted his pen up, slowly writing Jay's name down once again after he had just crossed it. “You're fine for now,” he concluded skeptically, making the taller boy chuckle once again before finally resuming in his chore, heading towards the garden. Thomas watched him leave with the same narrowed eyes as Newt, clenching his fist as he did so. He really couldn't stand that guy. He wasn't going to play the act of the clueless boy who did not understand why he felt such hatred towards another guy without any reason, because Thomas knew exactly what was going on. He hated Jay because he was jealous, it was as simple as that. He considered Newt as the person he was the most close to, he was his best friend, he was everything for him since Thomas had landed in this place, so it was natural that he felt jealous. After all, anyone would be jealous if someone else was trying to steal his best friend.

Thomas was so deep in his thoughts he didn't notice when Newt turned his head towards him, a tiny smirk spreading across his lips as he noticed his friend's clenched fists and tensed jaw. After a few seconds, he finally spoke up, startling his friend who whipped his head towards him so fast he almost lost his balance.

“Don't worry, I didn't write you down because I didn't need to. It's bloody obvious I'm not gonna leave you behind,” Thomas smiled sweetly at his friend, and was about to say something when the blond resumed. “Can't believe you thought I wasn't keeping you, you hot piece of ass,” he smiled brightly, in a voice so innocent it almost made his words pass for something appropriate.

Thomas stared at him for a few seconds, taken aback, as a blush crept up on his face. Just like the last time, he said the only thing that went through his brain, which was nothing, and took a few steps back, stammering that he had to go, before striding away, rushing towards where he guessed Minho was at the moment. He needed to stop finding himself alone with him, he definitely couldn't handle a sick Newt and needed backup. The blond definitely wouldn't dare saying that kind of things when people were around. Or would he?

The brunet started wondering if his friend acted like this with everyone, and of course, his brain immediately came up with the thought of him flirting with Jay. He was really close to making a U-turn and going back to Newt, when his glance suddenly fell onto Minho, only a few feet away from him. That one was apparently about to go get him, and visibly perked up when his eyes landed on him, reaching the brunet in a few strides.

“Great timing,” he exclaimed as he grabbed Thomas' arm, “we need to go.”

Minho started walking towards the Maze, until he noticed that his friend's steps were really slow and hesitant, and he was practically dragging him along by now. Rolling his eyes, the raven-haired boy let out an exasperated groan before stopping dead in his tracks and turning around to face his friend. This one wasn't even looking at him, head turned sideway to glance at Newt. “I'm really considering kicking your ass, slinthead,” Minho grunted, getting really annoyed by the situation.

The brunet whipped his head around, staring back at his friend with wide, offended eyes. Stammering, he tried to tell him that he was just a little worried, when Minho cut him off, his voice tired and apologetic as he explained him that they had been delaying this the whole morning and that they needed to go, especially since it was already past noon.

“Can't we just--”

“No, we can't stay. There's always a problem at the Glade, if we start making excuses we'll never go into the Maze again.” Minho affirmed, crossing his arms against his chest. “Trust me, I don't wanna leave Newt either but he'll be fine, and he's not alone anyway, the whole Glade's keeping an eye on him.”

Thomas let a sigh escape his lips, rubbing his neck as he seemed to accept the fact that Minho was making a point and that they couldn't flee their duty just because Newt was sick. After a second, he looked back at his friend and nodded, pressing his lips in a thin line. This one didn't seem enthusiastic at the idea of leaving the Glade either but lead the way nonetheless. Thomas followed him silently, slightly annoyed that they had to leave but recognizing that he had been the one annoying the shuck out of them to become a runner and that now he had to handle the responsibility, when Minho abruptly stopped in his track only a few feet away from the entrance, making Thomas bump into him. The brunet took a step back, frowning, when a voice suddenly erupted ahead of them.

“Okay, so, I'll climb up the vines, and when a Griver runs by, BAM, I'm gonna ride it back to where it goes during the day,”

Despite the obvious accent, Thomas found himself wishing the person wasn't who he thought he was, almost begging to the gods for it to be anyone but the sick boy who was supposed to rest. Still behind Minho, Thomas took a step aside to finally have the person in sight, and, of course, there he was, Newt, standing in front of the Maze with Jay, who seemed just as confused as Thomas by the blond's words. The taller boy furrowed his eyebrows, but was still wearing the same amused smile as always, and threw a glance over his shoulder, sharing a confused look with Minho. That one sighed, shaking his head, and told Thomas that he was allowed to try and stop him. The brunet rolled his eyes at his friend, and walked towards Newt before casually sweeping him off his feet, giving Jay a subtle glare as he did so. The blond barely reacted, and, despite the temporary dizziness the abrupt movement gave him, he stayed still in Thomas' arms, weirdly cooperative.

“Where are we going?” he asked, lifted his head to look at Thomas with wide, curious eyes.

“You're going to sleep so we're sure you won't go die somewhere while we're gone,” Thomas snorted back, keeping himself from rolling his eyes for the hundredth time of the day.

Newt immediately perked up at that, and straightened up, making the brunet almost lost his grip onto him. “Wait, wait, wait--” he repeated, making Thomas stop dead in his tracks beside Minho. “Let me try one last thing.”

The brunet exchanged a quick glance with Minho, who just shrugged at him, looking back at Newt with curious eyes. This one was fumbling with the button of the henley shirt Thomas had landed him. The brunet arched an eyebrow, confused, when Newt suddenly let the shirt slip off his shoulder, looking up at the sky with flirtatious eyes, as if he was looking at the creators through cameras.

“How about you let us out,” he purred, fluttering his eyelashes.

Newt was incredibly lucky Thomas had stopped right beside Minho, because when the brunet dropped him, his friend simply swooped in and caught the blond, shaking his head at how useless his infatuated friend was. Thomas blinked for a second, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he seemed to process what had just happened. Before he could even start to profusely apologize, Jay's laugh erupted from behind him, and Thomas had to close his eyes for a second to try and calm his nerves.

“Alright, Jay, do you mind bringing him back to the hammocks?” Minho sighed, taking a few steps towards the boy to hand him his friend. “Knock him out if you have to,” he then added.

“Uh,” the boy hesitated, throwing a brief glance towards the blond, “don't think I'll need to.”

Minho looked down, his glance falling onto a soundly asleep blondie. He fought off the urge to roll his eyes, grunting about how Newt was a handful when he was sick. He slightly shook his head, but was still aware of the fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched his friend peacefully asleep in his arms with his cheek pressed against his chest.

“He's lucky he's cute, otherwise he'd probaly be dead by now,” Thomas chuckled from beside him, staring at the blond with the exact same fond expression Minho was currently wearing. Unfortunately, Jay just had to break the moment, his snort drawing the boys' attention back to him as he said that Thomas was lucky he was sleeping, otherwise he'd probably be the one dead by now. The greenie furrowed his eyebrows, at the same time confused and irritated. He didn't even need to understand what the other brunet was talking about to be mad since he already knew it wouldn't please him.

“Newt hates being called cute, adorable, or whatever adjective could fit a kitten,” Jay added when he saw the puzzled look Thomas was giving him. He didn't notice Minho's shoulders drop in defeat beside him, otherwise he'd probably have understood he had just made a really, really bad mistake.

“Yeah, that's why I do it,” Thomas snapped back, narrowing his eyes at the brunet.

He didn't like the implication that Jay knew the sleepy blond better than Thomas, and the greenie wanted nothing more than to put him back in his place at the moment. He was litteraly shaking with anger, his fists tightly clenched at his sides. The tension was so thick Minho didn't know if he wanted to run away or grab some food to enjoy the show. He would've probably gone for the second option if he hadn't been the grown man he now was. Newt and Alby had a bad influence on him, and over the years he had become way too responsible for his liking. With a sigh, Minho dropped Newt into Jay's arms and sent him to the hammocks, before promptlty grabbing Thomas' shoulder to drag him along as he entered the Maze. “But, wait, I--” the brunet fumbled, as he kept glancing over his shoulder.

“He's still gonna be there tonight, greenie,” Minho retorted sharply as they disappeared behind the walls.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

* * *

Minho knew something was wrong as soon as they reached the doors, and no one was there to welcome them. It wasn't just an ego problem, he knew something was off because usually, some new guys who wanted to become runners would always stand there watching, or some friends like Chuck would be awaiting with a water bottle in hand. As they got back into the Glade, the two runners were welcomed by nothing but the view of chaos. Everyone seemed to be talking at the same time, yelling some orders or shouting back that there wasn't anything where they had just checked. Everyone was running in every direction, Minho could even see some silhouettes striding through the forest at a mad pace. They were looking for something, or rather someone, and the runner already knew who.

Thomas, on the other hand, hadn't realized what was happening yet, and, unlike Minho who had stopped to observe and understand what was going on, he kept walking, striding towards the center of the Glade to reach Alby. This one was busy talking with a younger glader who looked stressed, and didn't notice the brunet coming up to him until that one put his hand on his shoulder to draw his attention. Deep down, he probably knew what was happening as well as Minho. He wouldn't have been that anxious.

“Alby, what's going on??” he asked, his voice dripping with concern as he already dread the answer.

The look on his friend's face as he turned his head to look at him was enough for Thomas to understand, and before the leader could even open his mouth, the brunet turned around and scanned the area, looking for someone in particular. Once he finally recognized a silhouette among the crowd near the forest, he left the center of the Glade and approached them in a couple long strides, Alby's guilty eyes burning through his mind. When he finally reached the one person he was looking for, Thomas harshly grabbed his shoulder to make him turn around. Immediately shrugging his hand off, Jay took a step back before he glared at him. “What is your--”

“Where the fuck is Newt?!” Thomas yelled at him, feeling anger pump through his veins.

A couple feet away from them, Minho winced, already knowing things were about to get ugly. Newt's disappearance wasn't the only problem, the two gladers' interactions had been leading up to this all day. He knew one day they'd end up fighting, he just wished Thomas' concern for their friend hadn't been thrown into the mix.

“How would I know, man?!” the taller boy snarled back, spreading his arms as to ask him what was his problem. He had finally had it with Thomas' moodiness.

Considering that he had already been mature enough that day, Minho hadn't made a single move to stop Thomas when this one had strode over to Jay, ready to enjoy whatever was about to happen. He immediately regretted his choice when he saw his friend clench his fist, and barely had time to call out his name before Thomas withdrew his arm to punch the slightly taller boy square on the jaw. This one stumbled backwards, bringing a hand to his cheek as he winced from the pain shooting through it. He whipped his head back towards Thomas, his eyebrows furrowed with an offended look on his face.

“What's your problem, dude?!” he shouted, as he took a few steps back towards Thomas before forcefully pushing him.

“What my problem?!” Thomas yelled in a hoarse voice as he shoved the glader back. “You fucking lost Newt, here's my problem!”

Jay took a step back and withdrew his fist, about to give Thomas a taste of his own medecine, when Minho abruptly stepped in, facing away from him. He had his two hands planted firmly on his friend's shoulders and was trying to make eye contact, telling him something in a low voice that Jay couldn't hear from where he was. Too heated to stand back calmly, the glader took a step towards them and met the brunet's conflicted eyes over Minho's shoulder. “I don't know why you hate me so much, but you need to calm down,” he spat, glaring daggers at the runner.

Thomas pushed Minho's hands off his shoulders and went to stand once again before Jay, this time looking calmer than before. “Don't you dare tell me to calm down,” his voice was lower but it only made it more threatening. “You act like you know Newt better than I do, and then you can't even watch over him when we need you to. Don't ever dare to come close to him again.” Before Jay could even respond to his threat, Thomas turned around and stormed off towards the forest. This time, Minho didn't try to follow him and only turned back to Jay, sheepishly offering him an apologetic smile.

Surprisingly, unlike the glade, the woods were deathly quiet, and as soon as Thomas entered them, he was disturbed by the shifting mood, the eerie of the night taking him aback. Despite his discomfort, the brunet didn't slow down and kept striding through the woods, not caring the slightest about how fightening the trees' silhouettes looked in the dark. His only concern at the moment was to find Newt, he didn't care about anything else. The blond was sick, fever-high and probably exhausted by now, about to fall asleep alone and lost in the middle of a forest. Thomas wasn't a doctor but even he knew that a fever could lead to some serious issues if not taken care of properly, and he was pretty sure that sleeping outside on the ground during a cold weather wasn't technically a proper way to take care of it.

Shaking his head, Thomas tried to forget about his worry and focus on his task. He fastened his pace, manoeuvring between the trees with difficulty but refusing to go slower even if it meant risking a few bruises. He didn't even stop to think about how he wouldn't even be able to notice Newt even if he was right before him since the forest was almost pitch black, didn't even stop to think about how it would take him hours to inspect the whole place, nothing mattered except finding his friend at that moment. He didn't care if it took him hours, Thomas wouldn't go back until...

“Thomas?”

He stopped dead in his tracks and whipped his head around, blindly looking around him to find the origin of that voice. Thomas narrowed his eyes as if it'd help his vision to adjust to the dark, and was about to call out for that person when his glance landed on a small figure on the ground, leaning against a tree. “Newt?” he asked, a wave of relief washing over him when he locked eyes with a familiar pair of dark irises. The glader reached him in a few strides and crouched down to be at his level, a smile spreading across his face as he told him how worried they all were. He held out a hand to help him up, but the blond didn't move an inch, staying down with his knees drawn to his chest.

“I need time,” Newt muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, uh, sure,” the brunet hesitated, “we can stay here for a minute.”

It wasn't true. They couldn't stay, the other gladers were worried and waiting for news, the weather was getting too cold to stay outside sitting on the ground like that, but Thomas couldn't bring himself to refuse anything to Newt at the moment. He was just glad his friend was safe and sound. Trying his best to ignore how freezing the grass felt under his palms, Thomas sat down next to the blond before putting an arm around his shoulders, bringing him closer to share heat. It wasn't much, but he knew that it'd be enough to keep his fever from getting worse for now.

Newt let out a soft sigh as he leaned into the embrace to lay his head against the brunet's chest, and a comfortable silence settled between them, often disrupted by some distant footsteps from gladers. Thomas' eyelids were getting heavier and his head started lolling a bit until Newt's quiet voice erupted once again from beside him.

“I want it to stop,” he whispered, probably more to himself than to his friend.

“You'll already feel better tomorrow,” Thomas assured him, thinking about how they'd need to be more careful with the medecine the next day.

“Not that,” Newt frowned, slightly shaking his head. “The Glade.”

There was a beat of silence that seemed to last for an eternity. Thomas didn't move, didn't even try to answer. The feeling of helplessness was plaguing him, making his stomach twist. He stared into the distance, knowing that this time he couldn't do anything to help his dearest friend.

“I don't wanna fight anymore.”

Thomas tightened his hold around the blond's shoulders, bringing him even closer to him, before he gently took his hand in his and started drawing invisible circles on it with his thumb. He knew it wasn't much, he knew it didn't help at all, but he was also acutely aware that he was doing this more for himself than for Newt. Thomas needed him close, even closer than how he had him at the moment. He needed to know he was there, beside him, and needed to think he was somehow making him feel better.

“I'm tired,” Newt choked out, his voice shaking. “I'm so, so tired, Tommy.”

“I know,” the brunet rasped, gently running his fingers through Newt's hair, trying to soothe him the best he could, “You can sleep for now, Newt. I'll find a way to fix everything.”

“You swear you will?”

Thomas felt his head shift against his chest as Newt looked up at him, and he didn't even need light to know that the blond's eyes were probably sparkling with trust. He squeezed his hand, a gentle smile spreading across his lips at the sound of Newt's hopeful voice.

“Hm,” Thomas first hummed, before he added a second after, feeling like it wasn't enough. “I swear.”

Once again, a silence fell over them, and Newt snuggled into his chest as he let out a contend sigh. Thomas looked down at him, watching him fall asleep with a fond smile on his lips.

Fever or not, he also wasn't ready to go back to the others yet.

 


End file.
